The 'I' Word
by someclevername
Summary: Just something I felt like writing after watching the season 3 finale about how the gang deals with Ian's leaving. It's a work in progress. I'm attempting to keep everyone in character and have the scenes feel similar to what you'd see on the show, so please let me know what you think!
1. Chapter 1

_Lip,_

_I want to say I'm sorry but I don't want to lie to you. Truth is, the only thing I'm sorry about is not saying goodbye, but you're the smart one and I know it probably took you all of two seconds to figure out why I did what I did. I timed this out so that it should be getting to you about a week after the morning I left because I'm kinda hoping that by now you've had enough time to forgive me. Anyway, it's only the first week here so we're just getting the basics of basic training. Nothing too exciting to report. Hey, would you tell Fi that I'll send money as soon as they give me any? Thanks._

_I guess that's pretty much it. I miss you guys._

—

"I'm sorry, Lip. I thought he told you, or at least your sister. He left early in the morning, said bye to me the day before… Came by to kinda see Mickey, I think, too, before he went."  
Lip didn't respond right away, his eyes glazed over.  
"Look, he said he'd write. Send postcards and stuff," Mandy said, placing her hand over Lip's, which were tangled together in his lap.  
"Lip?" Finally, Lip turned to face Mandy, who was visibly shaken by his silence. He blinked once, then gave Mandy her hand back. He stood up from the couch in the Milkovitch living room and made his way toward the door, Mandy trailing quietly behind him.  
He turned to face her and said, "Let me know when you hear from him. And, um, thanks again. For the MIT thing."  
Mandy half smiled, confused but glad that Lip had found his voice, even though she hadn't heard anyone—none of the Gallaghers or her brother—say Ian's name even once in his absence. "Talk soon?" she asked Lip.  
He twisted the doorknob and let himself out, saying "Yeah, talk soon," over his shoulder.

—

"Morning! Heard y'all got a letter from—" Veronica started as she walked into the Gallagher kitchen, stopping mid sentence upon seeing Fiona's tiny balled up fists turning pink at her sides. "Hey, hey," Veronica called soothingly as she crossed the room, "Come on, Fi, breathe for a second. Have you read it? Has anyone? I think we should at least see how he's doing."  
She sat herself on the counter, facing Fiona, just in time to see one tear escape onto Fiona's face, giving her away. Veronica knew Fiona had moved on from pissed off to heartbroken.  
"I can't. I'm afraid it's just some big fat list of all the reasons he had to get the hell out of dodge finally. And he'd be right, V! I have no right to be upset with him for leaving this shit hole… But I am. I am! I didn't need him to leave too…" Fiona's voice broke and Veronica pulled her into a hug.  
Fiona let herself stay in the fold of her friend's embrace for one minute only, then pulled away and started fussing with her hair. "It's, I really don't have time for his shit, that's all. Got a million things to do as usual. Kids all think they can skip school and stop living just because he's gone, but not today."  
Veronica stared at Fiona, knowing that this was her way of coping. She had never seen Fiona cry for any extended period of time; she had never seen Fiona, her best friend, let herself feel anything completely. "What can I do, Fi?"  
"Help me get their asses out of bed. I'll start breakfast."  
Veronica began making her way up the staircase off the kitchen, but stopped abruptly and turned to look at Fiona once more. "He loves you. They all do. Now read the damn letter before I get Kev over here to read it aloud to the neighborhood."  
Fiona cracked a smile. She waited a moment, then reached into the Squirrel Fund container and pulled out the letter addressed to Lip. It was unopened, but it had been a week since they got it, and Fiona told herself it was time somebody got the balls to read the thing.

—

_I'm mostly jealous, I guess. Never thought you'd beat me out of here.  
__Carl's pissed. Keeps saying something about grips on a knife and you breaking your promise. I'm pretty sure he's been practicing ways to slit your throat with that thing.  
__Debs hasn't said a word about it to anyone other than Liam. The other day I found her in your room whispering to the kid about how she was the last ginger left and the minorities "gotta stick together." Actually pretty funny, if you think about it._  
_Fiona goes back and forth between "I don't want his fucking army money," and "Someone track his ass down and bring him home." She only means the second bit, though. Probably doesn't help that there's been no sign of JimmySteve.  
__Mandy misses you, especially since she hasn't been seeing much of me. She did tell me to let you know that one of the _other _Milkovitch siblings has asked about you, as she put it, "a shit ton."__Whenever you change your mind, we'll be here. Not about to give fucking Frank your bed any time soon. So c__ome home, dick._

_Lip_

—

"Gallagher."  
"Sir."  
"As you were. Have a seat, private."  
Ian was in the office of his commanding officer, seating himself on a dark blue plush chair. He thought it was probably the nicest chair he'd ever sat in, other than the love seat at Sheila's. He winced at the thought of anything Chicago related. "Something the matter, son?"  
Ian straightened his face into the stone mask that he had mastered in the short month that he'd been at training. "No, sir."  
"See, I think that's funny," the officer stopped his sentence here, waiting for Ian's response.  
Surprised, Ian asked, "Why's that, sir?"  
"Because you're lying," the officer answered in a matter-of-fact tone.  
"See, there is something the matter."  
Ian silently wondered how one small facial expression could give so much away. "I was, uh, just thinking about home for a second. It's the chair," he finished lamely.  
"I don't give a damn what you're thinking about, private. See, we've got an actual problem on our hands."

—

"Been five weeks, Mickey. Five! Don't you think it's about time you get off your ass and, I dunno, fuckin move?" Mandy shoved her foot under the limp body of her brother, who was lying face down on his bedroom floor. Using all of her strength, she was able to turn him over. He looked the worst she had ever seen him, and that was really saying something.  
"You know, I thought you'd be celebrating. Annulment papers have been signed for a while now… So you're free. To, you know, be the pathetic slob you used to be."  
Mickey opened his eyes but didn't budge. Mandy sat down cross-legged on the rug by his feet, seemingly out of insults to throw his way. After staring at his lifeless form for a long time, she stood back up. Mickey reached out and grabbed her ankle, and Mandy realized she could barely feel his grip.  
"Don't wanna be free," was all he managed to say.  
"So you're telling me you _wanted_ to be the father of some Russian slut's kid? I learn some new shit about you everyday, Mick," Mandy snorted.  
"You know I don't give a shit about her lying ass," he answered quickly.  
Mandy knew she was pushing it, but she couldn't help hoping today would be the day she could trick Mickey into living his fucking life again, even if it wasn't all that glamourous of a life.  
"You were right," he said before she had the time to think up a snarky reply.  
"Yeah, of course I was," Mandy said, though she wasn't sure which thing Mickey was giving her credit for being right about. "Well, wait. Right about—?"  
Mickey bolted into a sitting position against his bed, cutting her off. "I'm a pussy. Couldn't spit out the word _go_. I said don't, and he said 'don't what,' and I couldn't fucking do it. What was I supposed to say? 'I don't want you spending four years surrounded by like, fifty dicks at a time. I only want you around my dick.' Nah, couldn't say that. Fuck that."  
Mandy squatted down so that she was at eye level with her dumbass brother. "So do something. Pussy."

—


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey dumbass, where have you been?_

_I've never seen anyone check our mail before, well—other than Frank, and now everyone in this house is obsessed with the damn mailman. We get one letter from you, take a week deciding whether we give enough of a shit to read it, get all fucking hyped up over it, and then you stop writing? You can do whatever you want to me, but you don't get to hurt the rest of them. You've got to know the effect this has… It was hard enough on them for you to leave, but disappearing completely? That's not you. I mean, don't you think Christmas warrants a letter? You couldn't spare them a postcard?  
_

_It's enough that Debbie and Carl ask Fi and I once a day when you'll be back, but now I can't go anywhere without people wanting to know how you are. And I couldn't give them a fucking answer, not even if I felt like it, because I don't fucking know. If you're tired or miserable or needing anything, then we want to hear about it. Get back to me soon, alright? Everything kind of sucks a little more without you here._

_Happy belated New Year, douchebag_

_Lip_

_—_

Mickey lit up his third cigarette of the hour, sitting on the Milkovitch front porch. He was staring without seeing anything until his eyes focused on a stumbling man a few houses down. _Frank fucking Gallagher_, Mickey realized. Frank settled himself clumsily onto the curb outside of Mickey's neighbor's house, and Mickey found himself bounding off his steps and toward Frank. "I could smell the liquor on you a mile away, Frank," Mickey said once he was standing over him.

"What's it to you?" Frank muttered back, not even looking up to see whom he was having a conversation with.

"Like I give a shit. Why are you on my street and not laying in a ditch somewhere closer to your house?"

"Guess I like the quaint scenery," Frank answered, "reminds me of my days spent in that dump they call Me-hi-co."

Mickey couldn't help himself, and he let out a short chuckle. "I, uh, heard you're down one kid…" Mickey trailed off.

"Really? Who died?" Frank asked, turning his face up and looking Mickey straight in the eye. He saw Mickey open his mouth to answer and waved his hand around, signaling for the boy to stop. "No need, son, no need. Everything about you—your averted eyes, your shaken voice, the way you're kicking that damn rock to death—gives you away," Frank sputtered. Seeing Mickey turn a shade paler, he went on, "If you desire some knowledge about his well-being, I suggest you put pen to paper and write to him. And hey, let my damn kids know if he gets back to you, because they won't stop their incessant chatter about his little disappearing act. I myself don't associate with those who give into the pressures of our corrupt government. I'll serve myself and nobody else!"

Frank continued mumbling about socialist bastards but Mickey wasn't listening anymore. _If the Gallaghers hadn't heard from him, that meant something was wrong,_ Mickey told himself.

—

"Nothing?"  
"Nope."  
"I get it if he ignores me, because I guess I make him think of Mickey or whatever, but why not you guys?"

Lip and Mandy were lying on a pile of blankets situated on the roof of the van in the Gallagher's backyard. Lip sat up and looked down at Mandy. "That's the million dollar question."

Mandy positioned herself so that she was leaning on her elbow, and told Lip, "It doesn't make sense… I'm, like, worried kind of. I'm just being a girl though, so, whatever." She lay back again and stared at the sky, searching for stars. Lip stayed silent, which didn't surprise Mandy because he wasn't talking much these days. "I mean, I just had the urge to wish he was okay. Dumb, right?"

"It isn't dumb. I think something's up, too. He wouldn't do this to them. There's no way he'd leave Fi hanging like that…" Lip stopped, realizing he hadn't voiced his theory to anyone else and not wanting to say more.

"He wouldn't do it to you, either, Lip. I talked to Mickey yesterday and I think he's gonna try to talk to him. Is that okay? Like are you alright with that?" Mandy was fidgeting as she spoke.

"How'd you manage that? I thought ever since the whole 'Russian-girl-isn't-really-pregnant-it-was-all-a-l ie-and-now-the-marriage-is-off' scandal that Mickey was holed up at your place." Lip felt himself be interested in something for the first time in weeks, and then immediately mentally punched himself when he realized that his interest was in Mickey Milkovitch.

Mandy smiled. "Yeah, well, I don't know what did it, but he's up and moving around today. When I left he was sitting outside. My dad thinks he's all upset over the Russian slut but… well, you know the truth."

Lip lay back now and turned so that his face was close to Mandy's. "When did my life turn into a soap opera about gay kids?"

Mandy punched his arm and laughed. "Maybe it always has been, you just weren't watching before."

—

_Hey Gallagher,_

_What's up with you? I heard you're not talking to your family. The whole damn town is buzzing about the runaway Gallagher. It's pretty fucking annoying actually._

_I got a shit ton of stuff to tell you when you get back. When is that again?_

_Mickey_


	3. Chapter 3

"When is the last time you heard anyone say it?" Veronica asked as she stood next to Fiona after promising to dry while Fiona cleaned the dishes.  
"Say what?" Fiona answered, distracted by her hair falling onto her face. She stopped momentarily to throw it into a loose ponytail. Veronica closed her eyes, as if her thoughts were paining her. "V," Fiona said, knocking on her friend's forehead lightly, "what's going on in that pretty head of yours?"  
Veronica opened her eyes and mouth at the same time, seemingly prepared to respond, when the rest of the Gallagher clan, lead by Kev, came roaring into the house. Lip, who had Carl on his shoulders and Debbie at his side, immediately noticed the tension.  
"Successful icecream run?" Fiona asked him. He nodded and smiled at her, heaving Carl onto the couch in the next room.  
"I think it's about time you two figure out who gets the first shower," Lip suggested, "unless you wanna go to sleep with all those jimmies stuck to you." Debbie and Carl didn't need to be told twice. They shot up the stairs, fighting and clawing at one another. Lip turned back to his sister. "Liam?"  
"Upstairs and sound asleep. Worn out from today I guess," Fiona told him.  
"That makes two of us," Kev laughed, sauntering over to Veronica. "So… I take it we still haven't heard from him?"  
Before Fiona could answer, Veronica pushed Kev's arm off of her and shouted, "See! Nobody says it! It's been five weeks and three days. You think I haven't been counting too? Not one of you, not even the Milkovitch girl, has got the balls to say it."  
Kev and Fiona exchanged confused glances at one another, but Lip looked at Veronica with complete understanding.  
"His name," Lip explained, "she means that nobody says his name."  
"The 'I' word," Veronica agreed angrily.  
The kitchen was quiet then, except for the slow drip of water into the sink. Veronica calmed herself down and sat at the table. The others followed suit. After a long while, Fiona grabbed Lip's hand and said, without looking at anyone, "Hurts too much."

—

_Hey loser,_

_This is my fourth letter. Do you even open mine or just toss them? That's what I wonder every time I waste my money putting a stamp on these stupid things. I was gonna stop after my last one, because I got the point that you weren't planning on writing back, but now I'm hearing that you haven't gotten in touch with anyone. Lip couldn't admit it at first, but he's worried. Me and him both know something's up with you._

_Whatever it is, you can tell me. I just wanna know you're okay. And I'm not the only one. And I'm _not_ talking about your family. Write me back before I hire a guy to find you for me._

_Miss you,  
__Mandy_

—

Ian sat on his bottom bunk bed with his head in his hands. "How did I manage to fuck this up already?" he murmured to himself. The boy who slept above him swung himself so that he was hanging upside down, facing Ian. He was olive-skinned with a perfect set of pearly white teeth and dark eyes. _I always forget that he's kind of really good looking_, Ian thought to himself.  
"What's got your dick limp?" the boy, Jesse, asked him.  
"Great phrasing," Ian answered.  
"Phrasing or not, it's almost one in the morning and you've been sitting there mumbling to yourself all night."  
"Sorry, didn't mean to keep you up."  
"Don't be sorry; be explanatory."  
"Sometimes you say the weirdest shit," Ian said back with a smile. His bunkmate didn't answer this time, opting instead to wait for Ian to open up. With a sigh, Ian began, "I'm kind of in trouble."  
"Everyone here is in trouble," Jesse interrupted, "That's why we're here. To shape up, better ourselves, yada yada yada…"  
Ian laughed. "Yeah, guess you're right. But I meant in trouble with the officers."  
"The worst I can imagine you doing is, like, failing a test, Lip."  
Ian flinched at his brother's name. "I think I'm gonna try to get some sleep."  
Jesse was quiet for a minute, then asked, "You sure?"  
Ian lay back and closed his eyes before answering, "No, not about anything."

—

_Please don't be like Frank. I don't want to worry that you'll never come back. At least tell us you're coming back one day.  
Or you could just come back, and everyone will forgive you. I'll make your favorite cake. Everything will go back to normal.  
We miss you and love you._

_Your sister,  
__Debbie_

—

"Got some letters here for you, Private Gallagher."  
Ian found himself back in his officer's fancy plush chair. Several envelopes were thrust into his hands. "I was told that I hadn't gotten any mail in weeks," Ian said, confused, "and these are all addressed from at least four days ago!"  
"Well, see here, Misconduct is taken seriously in the US Army, Phillip. We held onto these to verify our suspicions, which we've had since a week and a half after you arrived," the officer informed Ian.  
Ian noted that each envelope had been opened and, he assumed, read. _Shit, what did they talk about in here? Drugs? Felonies? _Ian's mind was racing with all the crazy Gallagher shit that happened on a daily basis.  
"What do you have to say for yourself, Private?" The officer seemed to be implying that Ian should have known exactly what he had done wrong.  
"I, I'm not sure, sir. All I know is that three days ago I was summoned here and you told me that I was a liar, and then I was sent back to training. Could I—or, _may _I—read these, sir?" Ian was sweating, stuttering over each word.  
"Start with this one," his officer instructed, handing him yet another letter.  
Ian opened it and skimmed over it, then stopped at the bottom.  
"_So_ co_me home, dick. Lip," _his officer recited, "that's what that bottom part says... Strange that you'd receive a letter from yourself, isn't it?"


	4. Chapter 4

"You roll a lot better than you used to. Pretty good for a girl," Mickey told his sister, smirking.  
"You think? Yeah, well," Mandy stopped here, clearly deciding not to say what she was about to. Instead, she said, "You learn all types of shit over at the Gallagher's."  
Mickey closed his eyes. He and Mandy were sitting together on the steps in front of their house. He was wearing what he always did, jeans and a tank top with a zip-up hoodie over it in the middle of winter, but the weather wasn't what made him feel cold. He pulled on his sleeves. "Lip taught you that?"  
Mandy didn't answer right away. When Mickey opened his eyes and swiveled his head to look at her, she hesitantly responded, "No. Not Lip."  
"Is that what everyone's calling him now? 'Not Lip'?" Mickey asked, frustrated for a reason he couldn't understand.  
Mandy stood up and looked down at her brother. "That's not what _I_ call him," she spat, "but nobody around here can even hear his name without flinching, so I don't say it." Mandy's tone matched her brother's. Five weeks and five days of not saying her best friend's name was wearing on her, the same way his absence was hurting Mickey and the rest of the Gallaghers.  
"I can hear and say it just fine," Mickey started, "so… Fuck you."  
"Real nice," was all Mandy could manage as she sat back down. She was tired of walking on eggshells when it came to Ian, but she knew that her brother, more than anyone else, was breaking. They continued sitting together on the steps, handing the joint back and forth without saying a word to each other. After a while, Mandy had a thought. "Hey Mick?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Did you do what I told you?" A tinge of excitement laced her voice now.  
"Well you didn't exactly give me fucking directions, but uh, yeah. I sent a letter to him," Mickey said frowning, then, "to _Ian_."  
Mandy leaned over and put her arm on her brother's shoulder. "When?"  
"I did that overnight delivery thing or whatever. He should have gotten it yesterday." Mickey was picking at the threads on the rip of his jeans. "Look, I don't wanna talk about this shit anymore."  
Mandy moved so that she was on the same step as Mickey, then looked him in his eyes and declared with absolute certainty, "Yeah, Mick, you do."

—

"Where's Fiona?" Carl asked Veronica when he and Debbie got home from their first day back to school.  
"You know she's working. It's just us kids for now," she responded with a smile.  
"Cool. Where's Frank?"  
"Minding his own business somewhere," Veronica snapped. Feeling instantly guilty, she amended, "I don't know, kid. He was supposed to stop drinking so he's been… not himself lately. He comes and goes all the time."  
"Right," Debbie said, walking into the kitchen to join the conversation. "Nothing to worry about, Carl."  
Carl shrugged, believing Debbie without question. "Gonna go get Liam and show him how to hunt. See ya."  
Debbie yelled, "Start small, with birds or something!" then exhaled loudly once he was gone from the room. "I'm a terrible liar, V," she admitted to a knowing Veronica.  
"Like you gotta tell me. Thanks for covering, though, Debs. You did good, baby," Veronica said as she bent to hug Debbie.

—

_Lip,_

_I am sorry if you thought that I disappeared. There has just been a lot going on here. The training is very difficult.  
I will write again soon when I get a free moment._

_Love,  
__Ian_

—

"The training is 'very difficult'? What the fuck is that?" Lip crumpled the letter and threw it in Fiona's direction.  
"Hey! At least we know he's _alive_, Lip. Sit, take a breath, will ya?" Fiona retrieved the letter from the snow, brushed it off and opened it back up to read for herself. "Why's he talking so proper? You think they make them do that there?"  
One by one, the rest of the Gallaghers, along with Mandy and Veronica and Kev, streamed out of the house.  
"What do you think you're doing?" Fiona asked nobody in particular. The group looked around and decided that Kev should be their voice.  
"Well, Fi, I'm gonna be straight up with you. That door is like steel and there was no way we were all standing at the windows to eavesdrop so we decided to just come on out here and listen where we could hear better," Kev announced all in one breath.  
"Show's over," Lip said.  
"What Lip means is that there's really not much to see. He says he's… okay. Just busy." Fiona tried to give a convincing smile.  
"No way, " Veronica said, looking in Lip's direction, "are we gonna just leave it at that. Let us see."  
Fiona handed the letter to her friend and watched as each person took a turn reading it over. Carl was the last to get it and he held on to it so tightly it began to rip at the edges. "Love?" he whispered.  
Everyone huddled together in the silence. Slowly, realization dawned on different people of the group. Debbie bent her head toward Carl's. Carl then pulled on Kev's sleeve so that he could speak into his ear. Kev turned to Veronica and murmured something unintelligible. Veronica faced Mandy and Fiona, who were standing next to each other in a civil manner for the first time ever, and began speaking in her quietest voice. Mandy pulled Lip closer to her and reluctantly asked, "This wasn't Ian… was it?"  
Lip winced at his brother's name, then smiled in a way that made him look utterly dejected. He surveyed each person around him, seeming unsure of what to do. "No," was all he said.

—

Ian opened his mouth to answer, found no appropriate response within his mind, and closed his mouth again. The sudden urge to get up and run—an urge formed in his life in Chicago—became overwhelming.  
"You're not Phillip Gallagher, are you, Private?" His officer was calm.  
Brought out of his reverie by the question, Ian tried to think of any word other than _fuck_, but he couldn't. Instead, he simply answered, "No, sir."  
His officer sighed loudly and Ian thought he sounded, relieved? _Why?_ Ian thought.  
Before he got the courage to say anything, though, his officer stood and said, "I'm glad you told the truth, Ian. See, I've known it for a short while now and was hoping you'd be respectable enough to admit it. Unfortunately, all of your admirable qualities and hard work displayed here isn't enough for me to allow you an exception. You understand, I'm sure."  
"What does that mean?" Ian asked, uncertain about everything that had happened in the last ten minutes of his life.  
"That means you're on the first train back to where you came from, son."


	5. Chapter 5

"Ain't there," a familiar voice said behind Lip.  
"Wasn't looking for her," Lip answered as he turned to face Mickey.  
"What're you, lost, then?" Mickey asked, sounding bored, as he arrived at his front porch to stand by Lip.  
"Nope. Came for you."  
This piqued Mickey's interest. _Maybe…_ he thought to himself.  
"Ugh, keep it in your pants dude. He's not home, but we did get this," Lip groaned as he opened his hand and shoved the most recent letter from Ian into Mickey's hands.  
Mickey continued his uninterested act for another moment, and then snatched the crumpled paper from Lip. He read it more quickly than he had ever read anything else in his life. Four sentences. _Love, Ian_. "This some kind of joke?" Mickey asked, suddenly furious.  
Lip shook his head.  
"What is this bullshit? You think I don't know this ain't him?"  
"No, no," Lip said, "I was hoping you'd notice. I figured… You know him pretty well by now and I had a hunch but, I needed to make sure, and—"  
"Make your point, Gallagher, before I really get pissed." Mickey interrupted, clutching the letter so hard that the skin on his fist was rapidly turning white all over.  
"Look, you're right, this letter isn't from him. The fact that it's typed and the way he talked are weird enough, but he wouldn't sign with 'love.' I can't figure it out. Why would they send us a fake letter from him unless something really fucking bad happened?" Lip was rambling and his face betrayed his desperation. "I just need… I need you to tell me if you've heard from him." He stopped and stared at Mickey.  
"I, uh," Mickey could hardly speak. "No."  
The two boys didn't look at each other. Lip left without saying another word, thinking that the only thing he had in common with Mickey Milkovitch might be gone forever, and the thought made him sick.

—

"We could arrange a search party, right? That's a thing."  
"Sure, Fi, why don't you give Tony a call? That should go over well."  
"Why not? We could threaten to kill him if he doesn't help."  
"That seems… counterproductive, Carl."  
"I'm with Carl. You got a better idea, Debs?"  
"When did you get here, V? Oh, hey Kev," Debbie said, turning in her chair.  
"Can anyone tell me how my lawn mower is gonna help this situation?"  
"Dude, really?" Lip scolded Kev, who was worming his way past Lip into the kitchen to sit with everyone.  
"V, Kev, we're trying to come up with a game plan," Fiona explained.  
"Yeah. Operation Get-Ian-Back-From-The-Crazy-Indians."  
"Carl, why do you keep saying he's with Indians?" Lip was pinching the bridge of his nose, losing his temper.  
"I dunno, isn't he?" Carl seemed genuinely confused.  
The entire group began talking at once. Liam threw his action figure at Fiona's head.  
"Everyone stop! This is the suckiest strategy ever," Debbie yelled to be heard over the low roar of arguing voices. They all stared at her. "We need to think up some options here. Calmly and one at a time! Also, I vote no to Officer Tony."

—

Mandy was sitting at the bus station, one leg dangling over the other, knees shaking, holding a cigarette but not putting it to her lips. "_Shit, shit, shit_," she whispered to herself over and over. Her phone vibrated and she dug into her pocket to fish it out, dropping her cigarette into the street. There were no messages, she saw when she unlocked it, but a reminder to take her birth control was flashing. It was 12:16 in the afternoon. A few seconds later, she heard the tell-tale sound of big squeaky wheels turning the corner. She stood up and moved to the bus stop as quickly as possible, craning her neck to see inside. A line of people began to stream off of the bus, and then she saw it. Stupid red hair.  
"Ian! IAN!"  
"Hey!"  
"I could fucking kill you!" Mandy rushed to hug her best friend, pushing through the crowd that separated them. Then she punched him.  
"Missed you too," Ian said, hugging her back. He could barely feel her fist as it connected to his chest. He pushed her bangs out of her eyes and looked at her for a long time. "You doing alright?"  
"Me? I'm the least of your worries, you asshole." Mandy was half yelling, but she was smiling. She had thought it would be four years until she'd see Ian again. Then she had told herself that something terrible had happened to him and braced herself for possibly never seeing him again. But here he was, right in front of her, without a scratch on him. _I kind of wish he did have a scratch or two_, she thought.  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Ian asked.  
"Well, for starters, your family definitely thinks you're floating face down in some ocean."  
"They didn't give me the letters you guys wrote, that's why I didn't get back to you guys. I wasn't ignoring you or trying to disappear. I actually kinda figured you were all too pissed to write…"  
"God, you're dumb. So, what's with all the secrets? Why'd you only call me?" Mandy took Ian's arm and led him toward the bench she had been sitting on while she waited for him. "You're not planning on leaving again, are you? Cause I can't let you! Lip would murder me."  
Ian put his hand over Mandy's mouth. "No, Mandy, not going anywhere. They only gave me the one phone call and I didn't want a big scene here so… Here we are."  
Mandy stayed quiet, even after Ian removed his hand. It was weird to think someone was dead and then have him bossing you around. Finally, she asked, "What now?"  
Ian smirked. "Got one pit stop I wanna make. Then you can take me home."

—

*Author's Note: This is the shortest chapter but I don't want to add the rest yet, because then it would be like 3,000 words on it's own. I'm planning to do one final chapter after this one but I'd really like some feedback on whether you guys want me to write some more once you've read the whole thing. Please PM me or write a review so I know to keep going! Thanks for reading, lovelies.


	6. Chapter 6

Lip was standing alone in the Kash and Grab, staring at the various kinds of small potato chip bags. He smirked, knowing that while he couldn't stand half of these weird flavor combinations, Carl would devour them all without a second thought. _That kid could destroy anything_, Lip thought to himself, still smiling.

"What's that look for?"

Lip dropped the bag he had in his outreached hand. The bag burst open and sent buffalo chicken waffle chips all over the aisle. He spun himself around so fast that he nearly knocked Ian over. "No fucking way," Lip spluttered when his eyes confirmed that the voice he had heard did indeed belong to his brother. Ian grinned, looking at his dazed brother, and started laughing. Lip laughed, too, before stopping abruptly to say, "You know what, you stupid prick, I'm here buying snacks for the fucking SWAT team that Fiona created back at home. I mean, we were planning a search party, dude—"

Ian held his hand up to stop his brother. "Missed you too, Lip. All of you. I wanna explain, but I've got something that I gotta do first." He grabbed Lip by the shoulder to pull him into a hug.

"You're kidding, right?" Annoyance and surprise colored Lip's voice as he detached himself from Ian's embrace.

"I'm not. Mandy's waiting for me outside and—"

"Mandy? Wh—"

"Lip, would you shut the fuck up for a second? I only came in here because I saw you when we were walking by, staring at those chips like you were having a midlife crisis over sour cream or salt and vinegar and I just… wanted to see you."

Lip was quiet now, looking at Ian. He felt a thousand things at once, almost too fast for even his quick mind to process, and instead of letting himself be overwhelmed by anger or shock, he latched onto relief. "Yeah, alright," he said to his brother, "just make it quick. What should I tell everyone?"

"You don't wanna know what I'm doing?" Ian asked, ignoring Lip's question.

"I know exactly what you're up to," Lip answered with his trademark smirk. "Get home fast, before Fi calls Tony."

Ian began to ask why Fiona would call Tony, but Lip was walking away, waving his hand in a dismissive manner over his shoulder. "Welcome back, douchebag," he called out. "Been home five minutes and you already owe me!"

Ian smiled, shaking his head.

—

Mandy was outside the shop, just like Ian had said. When she saw Lip emerging from the door, she turned away quickly, hoping he hadn't spotted her. He had.

"Hey," he called to her.

She turned around slowly, unsure of how he would react to the situation. "Hey," she said back.

He crossed his arms, but not in an unfriendly way. "That was anticlimactic," was all he said. Mandy exhaled the breath she had been holding in. They both laughed.

"So you're okay then?" Mandy wanted to double check.

Lip nodded and responded, "I am if he is."

"I think you can say it now," Mandy started, "the I word."

Lip chuckled and took a few steps closer to Mandy, then stretched out his hand to brush the hair away from Mandy's eyes. "If Ian's okay, then so am I." He paused here and then said, "I'll see you at the big reunion tonight. I'll break out the ice cream truck and get Kev to help me dig up all the good stuff." He walked away then, and Mandy couldn't help but notice that Lip was looking better than he had in weeks.

"Those jeans fit you real good, Lip!" She yelled in his direction. She could only tell he was laughing at her remark by the slight rise and fall of his shoulders as he sauntered away.

—

"What now?" Mandy asked Ian for what felt to her like the hundredth time.

"I just got my job back. Turns out Linda actually likes me, even though she pretends that she only tolerates me," Ian told Mandy as they walked closer to their neighborhood in the South Side. He handed her a pork rind from the bag Linda had given him. "She just got done telling me off for not answering her letter."

"You're telling me that _she_ wrote to you? Why?"

"She said she wanted somebody to complain about Mickey to, and couldn't think of anyone else who would get it…" Ian trailed off, then started again: "I guess he's been missing shifts and fucking around while I've been gone, or something."

Mandy stopped walking and grabbed Ian's arm. "Is that where we're going? To see him?"

Ian shook his head. "Nah, not now. Gotta go meet with an officer in the local enlistment office."

"What the fuck, Ian? I'm not letting you do that!" Mandy was pressing her nails into the skin of Ian's forearm as a means of keeping him where he was.

"Ouch! It's not what you think, alright?" He removed her fingers from his aching arm. "I'm basically just going to get my ass handed to me about lying to the US government. No big deal."

For a moment, it was silent. Then Mandy and Ian burst out laughing.

"Yeah," Mandy agreed, "No biggie. Call me the minute you're done." It wasn't a request.

"Like I got a choice," Ian answered before parting ways with his best friend.

—

"Do you think I fucked up? You know, hitting Karen Jackson with the car?" Mandy was leaning against her brother's bedroom doorway. Mickey was lying on his bed, pointing an unloaded pistol at the target he had taped to his ceiling.

"She still living out in some state in the South?"

"Arizona."

"Not pressing charges?"

"Not that I know of."

"Then you're golden. I don't see a problem." Mickey said, sitting up to make room for Mandy to join him on his bed.

"I didn't… I meant do you think I fucked it up with Lip by trying to kill his ex," Mandy sighed.

"You ever think maybe he expects too fucking much?" Mickey yelled in response.

"Whoa, Mickey, relax. What're you talking about?" Mandy asked, confused about her brother's outburst. Mickey closed his eyes and held the gun's cool surface against his forehead.

"I mean he expects too much from you. Thinks things should be his way or he'll just up and leave. Wants something you don't wanna give." Mickey sounded breathless at the end of his explanation. Mandy got up and took the gun from his hand, setting on the table by his bed.

"Sounds like something a pussy would say," she answered. When Mickey opened his eyes she wasn't in the room anymore, so he closed them once more and turned over.

—

"I personally don't think asking you to finish a sentence is asking too much," Mickey heard Ian's voice say while he slept. Except he wasn't asleep, he realized, scrambling to get out of his tangled sheets. After stumbling to his feet, Mickey turned to face Ian standing in his bedroom with him. Mandy had only been gone for a minute. He couldn't think of anything to say.

"I hear you're spending a lot of your time in here lately. Who's the new guy?" Ian asked, seemingly calm.

"Why does my fucking sister always know you're here before I do?" Mickey retorted, instead of answering Ian's question.

"Because she makes it pretty clear that she likes having me around," Ian answered coolly. He sauntered around Mickey's room, looking at all the things Svetlana had left behind.

"And what's this shit you're saying about another dude?" Mickey asked, turning red from a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

"I figured if you're in here all the time you must be fucking somebody," Ian's voice faltered, but he began again: "Why else would you be in your bed all day everyday?"

"That's my business, Gallagher. You know what else is my business? Where the fuck you've been for almost two months. The whole neighborhood won't shut up about your little disappearing act," Mickey said.

"Yeah, I got your letter about that. Long story," Ian replied quickly. The two boys looked at one another, not saying anything else. Mickey walked to his bedroom door and shut it, then hopped over his bed, which was the only thing separating them, and grabbed Ian's face, kissing him hard on the mouth. Ian's military issue jacket was on the floor in seconds, along with the hoodie Mickey had previously been wearing.

Ian pulled away after a moment, gasping, and said, "It wasn't almost two months. Wasn't even six weeks."

Mickey left his hand on Ian's chest as he said, "Felt like forever." Ian didn't say anything, just stared at Mickey, but Mickey continued on. "You didn't write back. And then Lip came over here talking about some shit going wrong wherever you were…" Mickey stopped himself, taking his hand off of Ian and grabbing a cigarette.

"I did write back. Got it right here, if you want it." Ian said as he pulled a folded envelope out of his pocket. He set it on the bed next to Mickey.

"What, you're saying to read it now?" Mickey asked. Instead of waiting for an answer, he grabbed the envelope and tore it open. He read it aloud:

"_Mickey,_

_Turns out the US Army is smarter than I am. They found out that I forged my ID within my first week at training and held onto all my mail since then. Maybe if you don't wanna hear the neighborhood talking about me then you should stop gossiping with all the other girls at the nail salon, huh?_

_Congrats on the divorce. Hope you didn't get the clap from your commie whore._

_Ian"_

Mickey let out a chuckle before saying, "The nail salon? Fuck you, Gallagher."

Ian smiled in response.

"I should have finished it," Mickey said so quietly Ian almost didn't hear him.

"What?" Ian asked as Mickey stood up and placed the letter in a drawer.

"I should have said it. _Don't go._ I pussied out," Mickey admitted. "I kept thinking of the word go, for like a fucking week after you left."

Ian shrugged and said, "I was gonna go either way. Didn't wanna be around for the honeymoon."

"Hey, did you fuck someone at your gay little boot camp?" Mickey asked suddenly. Ian smirked, not looking Mickey in the eyes. "Gallagher?"

Ian turned his face up so that he was looking at Mickey and their faces were only inches apart. "You missed me, 'cause you love me. Admit it," he demanded.

Mickey punched Ian lightly on his shoulder then kissed him again. This time Ian didn't stop him.

—


End file.
